First

by M. A. Grant

  ‘How about the three we pulled from it?’ Ty asks.

  Captain shakes his head. ‘The first two are in the hospital. They’re currently listed as critical.’

  He hasn’t mentioned the third. Already, I know what he’s going to say. Cold sweeps over me, prickles working their way down my spine.

  ‘The third woman didn’t make it. They called it at the hospital.’ He looks from Ty to Jeff to me. ‘You did the best you could. I’m sorry it ended that way.’

  The rest of the meeting is fuzzy. I don’t even realise it’s over until everyone around me starts to get up. Hands land on my shoulder as the rest of my crew leaves the room, heading toward the showers or the parking lot to head home. A few of the guys who are too exhausted go back toward the few empty bunks to fit in a quick nap before driving. I blink, eyes burning from a lack of sleep and the smoke from the fire, and try to force myself from the numbness that’s settling in.

  Captain Blake sits down across from me and pushes over a bottle of ibuprofen. I swallow down some pills, washing it down with another mouthful of the foul brew in my cup.

  ‘I’m sorry she didn’t make it,’ he tells me.

  I nod.

  ‘How’s your head?’

  ‘Sore. I’ll be fine before next shift.’

  ‘Have you called Catherine yet to tell her you’re safe?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘What about that girl who was here tonight? Maya, wasn’t it?’

  ‘No,’ I croak, throat sore. ‘I haven’t called her.’

  Captain Blake leans back in his chair, looking down the hall behind me. ‘You’re good at this job, Jacobs,’ he finally says. ‘You’ve said before you’re in it for the long haul. I know this isn’t the first person you’ve lost. But sometimes certain fires hit us harder than others.’

  He looks at me and in that moment I know he saw my stumble at the fire. He saw my brain shut down and he must have recognised it had nothing to do with the physicality of the job. I appreciate him waiting to bring it up until now.

  His expression is a mixture of sternness and concern. ‘When that happens, you need to take the time to process. Okay?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ I reply.

  He nods once and stands. ‘Get home safe.’

  Once he’s gone, I lever myself out of the chair. Everything hurts. Even my stupid freaking chest, where my heart feels like it’s trying to bust its way out from behind my ribs. I grab my bag from my locker and stare at my phone. It’s off and I hesitate to turn it back on. I’m sure Cat will have texted me. Probably a lot of texts. I don’t think I can handle that right now.

  Instead, I pick up the station’s landline and call the house. When she answers, she’s groggy. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hey, sis.’

  ‘Jake! Are you okay? It sounded like a huge fire—’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Just got back to the station. I’ve got a few hours’ worth of work to do here though.’ The lie slips out far too easily.

  ‘I’m just glad you’re safe. Do you want me to drive over and pick you up when you’re done so you don’t have to drive?’

  ‘Nah. I’ll catch a nap here and head home after. Everything’s fine, I promise.’

  But it’s not.

  ‘Thanks for calling,’ she murmurs. ‘I know I shouldn’t worry about you, but I can’t help it.’

  ‘Love you, Cat. Go back to bed.’

  ‘Love you too.’

  I hang up, but tap my fingers against the phone. Why did I tell her I wasn’t going home? That’s where I should go. I’ve got no reason to avoid it.

  My truck’s in the parking lot, one of the last vehicles from my shift left. Getting in is easy. But when I stick the key in the ignition, my hand shakes so badly I can’t start the damn engine. And then it spreads.

  God only knows how long I sit there, body shuddering, before the adrenaline finishes its rampage. The moment I can manage it, I start my truck and leave the station. The roads in town are quiet, not a surprise given the early hour, and I drive aimlessly. Sites of previous fires pass outside my window, my memories rising and falling like the quiet drone of the country music playing on my radio. The college passes on my right, campus streetlamps creating trails of light.

  I turn down the street, again heading away from my house. A red light finally halts my progress and I come out of my thoughts enough to recognise this spot. This is the intersection where my parents were killed.

  I was in Houston when it happened, a nineteen year-old adrenaline junkie who believed he ruled the world. A single call from California Highway Patrol shattered that illusion. The rest of that day was a blur of talking. Talking with police, with lawyers, with the trainers running the academy. When Dallas finally got through and convinced me to stay for the last two weeks, that he’d take care of Cat, I’d agreed.

  There hadn’t been a choice. If I’d gone home, the time I’d already spent at the academy wouldn’t have counted. Returning again to run the whole course would have been the only option. With my parents gone and Cat to worry about, I wouldn’t have ever had time or money to go back. The choice was clear: leave and face an uncertain future, or be responsible, hold in the grief, and return home later with a career that would support my little sister.

  I’ve never looked back. Not once.

  But for some reason, sitting at this red light at the very place where my parents’ car was hit from behind and forced into the middle of the intersection where they were then t-boned, I have a moment of clarity. I’ve never looked back, but I’ve never looked forward either.

  Life’s been at a standstill for years. Now, with Cat mere months away from her college graduation, I’m going to wake up one morning and discover my life is mine again. I don’t regret the close relationship I’ve created with my little sister, or the bond I’ve strengthened with my best friend thanks to his help in the accident’s aftermath. I’m grateful for the life I have. It’s better than what I thought was possible.

  But being with Maya … For the first time, I wonder if I’ve missed out on something the past eight years.

  The light changes to green and I drive slowly away from the intersection. These roads are familiar but I’m still lost.

  You need to go home, the responsible side of me warns.

  I can’t go home. Home means putting on a good face for Cat, pretending everything’s okay, and swallowing down the scream that wants to claw its way out of my throat.

  You have nowhere else to go.

  I could park down at the beach. Listen to the waves and watch the moonlight turning them silver.

  Until the cops stop by your truck and try to find out why you’re sitting there like some kind of creep.

  God, when did I become such a coward?

  Funny, didn’t Maya just ask me the same thing? No, not asked. Accused me of it. Her brown eyes flashing, an expression of superiority twisting the corners of her lips. You’re too scared to go out and grab life by the balls, she’d said.

  I know what I need to do. I turn at the next light, finally decided on where I’m going. She’s right. I do need to lose control. And there’s only one person I trust enough to be around when that happens.

  ***

  Pounding wakens me. It takes me a while to drag myself from the strange dream I was having. Something about Jake and I at the station, but it was burning down around us. I kept trying to warn him only to have him kiss me until I shut up. I don’t remember if the flames reached us or not—

  The noise stops for a brief moment of peace before picking up again. Brain starting to work like it should, I realise it’s coming from my door, not my party-happy neighbours’ door. I crawl out of bed and snag my robe from the back of a chair. The dark night sky lurks behind the curtain of my window. Who the hell would be knocking on my door at this godforsaken hour?

  I turn on a lamp as I pass through the living room, although its dim light only outlines the shapes of my furniture. Turning on the other lights can wait unt
il I figure out who’s at my door. I glance through the peephole. The sight greeting my eyes can’t be real.

  ‘Jake?’ I ask as I pull open the door.

  He stands there, backlit by the hall’s lights, body tight, head lowered, exhaustion written in every line of his face. I tighten the tie of my robe. ‘You shouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Really?’ His voice is raspy from the smoke, but the annoyed incredulity remains. ‘I show up on your doorstep and that’s the first thing you say to me?’

  I flush. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Woman, you have a way with words.’

  I bristle. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t assume you’d stop here first instead of going home to see your sister, who’s terrified you’re hurt. You don’t have to make fun of me.’

  ‘I wasn’t.’

  ‘You were!’

  He makes a noise between a sigh and a growl and rubs a hand over his head. ‘I already talked to Cat.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Well, that kills my self-righteous indignation. Stalemate. Eventually, I ask, ‘Why are you even here?’

  ‘You were right.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Earlier at the station. You said someday my control would snap. That’s why I couldn’t go home. That’s why I’m standing here.’

  My mouth goes dry. ‘Jake—’

  His hand wraps around the doorframe, clutching at the wood, holding him up. ‘You get it. You’re the only one who gets it.’ He finally looks up and the pain in his eyes is a punch to my chest. ‘I can’t be in control right now.’

  I hear the plea under his blunt statement. Memories of our last night together make the silken brush of my robe over my skin nearly painful. My nipples ache, my clit pounds, and every nerve stands to attention, focused on the pleasure my body knows he’s offering. But there’s something different in the air. This moment is different. As much as I want to help him, to ease his pain, the petals strewn over this path do nothing to hide the fact that it’s leading straight to hell.

  ‘What about your promise?’ I whisper. ‘You already hate me enough.’

  He tries to laugh, but it’s strangled. ‘I don’t think I could ever hate you.’

  My heart stutters at those words and I have to make a conscious effort to breathe.

  He doesn’t give me time to process his admission. His voice is gravelly, rough. ‘Help me forget tonight.’

  Against all my better judgement, I swing the door open and walk away back into my apartment. Well, I try to do that. The problem is that when I turn away, Jake reaches out and takes my hand, spinning me back toward him. I collide with his solid form. My hands flutter against his chest, but it’s far too late.

  One of his hands flexes on my hip, the other is on the back of my neck, and his lips hit mine with the force of a freight train. All coherent thought evaporates and I’m reduced to base need. Animalistic sounds. The taste of his lips and tongue and the sharp nip of his teeth against my mouth.

  I drag him inside as much as he pushes me. His hand leaves my hip and a second later, the door closes behind us. The finality of that noise should make me stop. Should, because nothing on this earth could make me stop kissing Jake right now.

  He’s ravenous. Each kiss is deeper, hotter, wetter.

  I score my nails lightly down his chest and the flat plane of his stomach. When I hit the hem of his shirt, I pull my mouth from his long enough to pull the fabric up. He makes a noise of exasperation, but goes with the movement, ripping it over his head and flinging it to the floor.

  The lamp’s light only highlights the lines of his musculature. His chest heaves and his arms tense as they fall back to his sides, muscles flexing. My eyes snap to the sharp V disappearing into the band of his jeans, leading down to his narrow hips.

  He’s in motion again, ignoring my staring. He reaches out and grabs the tie of my robe. The knot falls apart with little resistance and the silk whispers as it gaps open. He takes a sharp inhalation, fingers tracing the narrow strip of my exposed skin, sliding from the top edge of my panties over my stomach, up my sternum, and resting lightly against my collarbone. Both his hands slip under the robe and he slips it off my shoulders.

  His advance moves me toward the couch and when the back of my legs hit it, he presses against me. I lose myself in his kiss, until his hands snake around to grasp my ass, squeezing gently. His mouth dips away from mine for a moment as he slides his hands down to the back of my thighs and lifts me in a smooth motion. I cling to him, running my hands over his shoulders and his hair. He lowers me so I’m sitting on the edge of the couch while he kneels before me.

  His eyes are dark and focused when he pulls away. ‘Relax,’ he orders and his mouth is on my breast. His tongue swirls around my nipple, drawing it to a firm point, while his hand cups my other breast. My gasp spurs him on and with each suck, flickers of answering arousal grow lower. He switches sides and my legs fall open wider. He makes a rumble of approval and presses closer to me, claiming whatever space exists between our bodies.

  I forget about his other hand until it slips between my legs and rubs against the cotton of my panties. I moan and my hips jerk forward. His lips shift against my breast and some part of me knows he’s smiling.

  ‘You’re on fire,’ he mutters. ‘And soaked.’

  I flush, but don’t want him to stop.

  Now that he knows how sensitive I am, he establishes a rhythm, the gentle pressure of his fingers mimicking his mouth. I squirm, trying to escape the sensation, and he leans forward, using his weight to pin me in place. He continues the divine torture until I dig my fingers in his shoulders, begging him, ‘Bedroom.’

  He ignores me. The separation of his mouth from my breast is one I dislike too much. Stubble rasps against my skin when he kisses the tender flesh between my breasts, his lips trailing lower and lower. His fingers slip under the edge of my panties and he pushes them down.

  ‘Lift your hips,’ he demands.

  I obey without argument, without thought. He drags them out from under me, sliding them slowly down my legs, making sure I know exactly what he’s doing. Once they’re off my feet, he drops them to his side. I try to close my legs, but his hands push against the inside of my knees, preventing me from accomplishing it.

  ‘No, baby,’ he whispers and strokes a finger through the curls at the junction of my thighs. ‘This is exactly where I need to be.’

  He spreads my legs apart further and the planes of his face sharpen as he looks at the most intimate part of me. I open my mouth, but my protest is cut off when he nuzzles me, tongue flicking out to trace my clit.

  The air leaves my lungs with a shudder and I freeze. Another slow, soft lick and he pulls away. He kisses the inside of my thighs, returning to trace his tongue down one side of my labia and up the other. One of his hands slides up from my hip, clasped around my ribs, his thumb brushing the underside of my breast.

  He coaxes me higher and higher, making noises of contentment when I twitch against him or groan when he does something that sets a cascade of tingles crashing through my body. I don’t know how long he stays there, focused solely on me, but a gentle suck and flick against my clit leaves me tottering on the edge.

  Desperate, I do something I’ve never dared to do with a man. I grab his hair, trying to be gentle and surely failing, and grind myself against him.

  ‘Harder,’ I demand.

  The hand at my ribs clenches and he wraps his free arm around my ass and hauls me tightly against him. His tongue darts out, sliding roughly over and over until each press matches my rapid breathing. My back arches from the couch, my head falls back, and my hips lock in place.

  He growls in approval and I cry out his name, jerking as he continues to wring the orgasm from me. Only when I slump against the back of the couch does he draw back. The quick huffs of air escaping him send goose bumps skittering over my skin. But it’s the look in his eyes that gives me pause.

  On stage, men have played beso
tted lovers opposite me. I know the expressions that are supposed to indicate caring, desire, appreciation. Jake’s neck and chest are flushed. He’s still kneeling there in his jeans and heavy boots, watching me. But no man has ever worn that expression for me.

  I’m torn between revelling in this moment and fleeing from a nameless weight settling in my chest. I only now wonder whether losing control may be dangerous.

  ‘Maya—’ It’s a whisper and order.

  Slipping from the couch onto the floor where I can kneel across from him isn’t a surrender. Reaching for the buckle of his belt, coaxing him to lift up so I can unbutton his jeans is simply done from my desire to change his expression. Pulling his wallet from his back pocket and finding a condom doesn’t mean I need to feel him pressed against me, inside me. It just means I understand my body. It means I can empathise with his need to forget. That’s all this is.

  Please, let that be all this is.

  ***

  I am so fucked. I knew it the moment Maya opened her door and frowned at me. Her dark hair was loose, a curling halo around her head. Even in the dim lighting, the warmth of her skin was a flame in the face of my sterile existence. I felt more alive arguing with her than when I ran into that burning building.

  I almost lost it when she came. I’m about to lose it now.

  She’s so focused on undoing my jeans that she gives me a moment to watch her. Straight nose, long eyelashes, a light dusting of barely-noticeable freckles across the top of her cheeks. So much intelligence. So much life. She’s an angel with the lips of a sinner.

  I groan when her warm fingers free my cock. She strokes me and I force myself to not pump my hips up against her hand. As if she knows how deeply I need to feel her body squeezing down on me, she tears open the condom package and rolls the latex down. She rests her hands on my shoulders, balancing so she can lower herself onto me.

  My abs clench when I’m surrounded by her slick heat. Grabbing her hips grounds me. Her legs wrap around me and she lifts herself, using my body for purchase before she slides back down. This isn’t frantic, hungry sex. This is slow, deliberate, and still not enough. When this night’s done, there’s no way in hell we’ll be able to deny the way the world’s shifted.